


A Quiet Night's Meal

by Nanchagouya



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cooking, Crystal Exarch - mentioned, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanchagouya/pseuds/Nanchagouya
Summary: On a rainy night in the Lavender Beds, Daca'a Fashonti simply wishes to cook.





	A Quiet Night's Meal

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i don't remember the last time i wrote something.

Rain softly fell against the windows, a quiet drum roll to accompany the sounds from the kitchen, the knife in his hands smoothly working through the various ingredients for the night’s meal, a brief note – same in tone, as it always has been – against the wood of the cutting board.

Daca’a stopped to think for a moment, eyeing up the ingredients he’d assembled so far. The meat had been neatly sliced into small cubes, along with any vegetables he’d had on hand. _I need to visit that sweet neighbour of mine more often_, he thought to himself as he focused on a particularly interesting slice of tomato. _She’s always growing something wonderful for meals. Maybe I’ll make something with the fruits she gave me in return, I’m certain she’d appreciate it_. Before he could get distracted with whether to make a tart or a cheesecake, he shook himself out of that train of thought, looking at his herb rack off to the side. _Well, I can always add some basil to this…_

A few minutes later, he’d got rather involved in making the dish. Where he originally intended for just some basil, Daca’a had diced an onion and set a pot of water to the boil. Stepping back while he waited for both the water to boil and for the oil he’d put in the pan to heat up, he looked out of the window. The rain was still going, white noise against the glass, the gentle light from the lanterns and candles on the table giving him enough to see outside, to see the pond in his garden. To his surprise, there were still some birds about on the bench, huddling together for shelter from the rain.

“Poor things,” he muttered to himself, watching them shake themselves dry. “I should put up a shelter for them, especially once it starts getting colder. It’ll need to be big, too, so that they’ll all have a warm place to be.” He turned his attention to the mushrooms, quickly dicing them up too before carefully placing the meat in the pan, the sizzling as it meets the hot oil its own instrument, a constant note blending in with the percussion of the rain and the quiet bubbling of the water. He paused for a moment, before realising he’d forgot to do the same with the onions, hastily adding them in. He took a step back to simply watch for a moment, while the red of the meat slowly gave way to that cooked grey.

“Well, the meat seems coming along rather nicely”, he said to no one in particular – a habit he’d picked up from his time on the First, when he’d narrate what he was doing while cooking meals in his room in the Pendants, for he knew the Exarch was peering in at mealtimes – before catching himself and shaking his head with a smile. “If only you were listening in now, Exarch. One of those things I’ll miss the most about the First…” he busied himself with the onions, pressing firmly with a wooden spatula to cut some of the larger pieces down. Once he deemed the meat ready, he added the tomato and mushrooms to the mix, stirring everything together until it looked like a rather appetizing blend: the barely-audible onions, still sizzling even after their time in the oil, the juices of the mushrooms and tomatoes bubbling together, the water in the pot next to it reaching a rolling boil, a quiet crescendo as the bubbles threatened to spill over.

“Just about ready, it seems. Now, where is it…” He crouched down and opened the cupboard, rummaging around before finding a cloth wrapped around something. Unravelling the cloth, he smiled fondly at the pasta it had been holding. “Ah, there we are. I’ve been holding onto this for a bit, but it was the first batch we’d made together. Knowing you, Exarch… well, the memories will probably add to the taste in some way.” He stood back up, carefully sliding the pasta in, its addition to the pot somewhat muting the noise of the bubbles, a convenient muffler that brought it back in line with the rest of the performers in the kitchen. Leaning a bit to his left, he reached for a small clock resting on the counter, setting a timer for the pasta, if only to add the quiet ticking of the clock to the mix, to serve as a metronome, a beat, a rhythm for the pot and pan to follow along.

The next few minutes passed almost as the blinking of his eyes, the quiet sizzling and bubbling lulling him into a state not too far from sleep. The ringing of the alarm brought him back to the kitchen, a final chorus for the song the ingredients were singing in their places, the almost inaudible bubbling as he removed the heat quietly leading the wordless song out. It didn’t take long for him to plate everything, the pasta forming a bed upon which the meat, tomatoes, onions and mushrooms rested, sprawling out over the pasta and in some places falling off onto the rest of the plate. Daca’a smiled to himself as he sat down, utensils in hand, and savoured the first bite of his efforts.

_It’s nice to have quite moments like these_, he thought to himself as he ate, no music left but the rain’s quiet drumming, just as it had begun. _No grand threats to the world, no other worlds in need of my aid… just me and a quiet night’s meal._ Turning his head to look outside, the birds on the bench were still there, now resting huddled together in a pile of feathers and beaks. _I’ll have to visit the Exarch again, and cook for him. Just to thank him for what he’s done._


End file.
